the dream pt1
1377 Words
“I was running on fumes, fear, and fury. But it wasn’t enough.”
The girl—Lys, her name sharp like steel—was shouting something I couldn’t hear.
Everything had turned soft, like cloth pressed against my ears. The forest spun. My chest burned. I had run too far, lost too much blood. My legs buckled.
Before I hit the ground, I saw it—a crooked stone house, hidden by vines and fog.
Sanctuary. Or maybe a tomb.
The last thing I felt was her hand catching mine.
Then, nothing.
“Hey, school’s over.”
That voice had startled me—snapping me back to reality. I’d blinked, still half-trapped in the pages of a worn paperback, my fingers frozen mid-scroll on the e-reader app. My classmate had been hovering beside my desk, already packing up her bag.
“You didn’t even hear the bell,” she laughed. “What are you so obsessed with?”
I didn’t answer. Just clutched my phone tighter. Because at that moment, I couldn’t explain it—not the ache in my chest, not the heat building behind my eyes. How could I explain the war, the betrayal, the loneliness I was reading… in a book with a title as fluffy as "The Crown’s Eternal Promise"?
God, it sounded like one of those cheesy romance novels where the prince falls in love with the girl-next-door and lives happily ever after. And, to be fair, that was how it started.
Charlotte Evelyn Rosé. That was the heroine. the daughter of a viscount. Bubbly, quirky, outrageously bold. She talked back to nobles. She baked cookies for knights. She called the cold male lead an “ice cube” and somehow wormed her way into his heart.
And yeah, I admit it—I loved her at first.
She was funny. Spontaneous. Just like every main character in a rom-com. She got into food fights with royalty and stumbled into palace intrigue like she was running a YouTube prank channel.
But the thing is…
The further I read, the more I started to notice something off.
No one in the story seemed real—except him.
Kael Varentine.
The ‘villain.’
The “silent general.” The man everyone feared. The one Charlotte openly called “a brute in armor.”
He barely spoke. Always stood a few paces behind the prince. Cold. Distant. Unreadable.
I remembered the moment clearly—the chapter where Charlotte baked some stupid honey tarts and offered them to everyone in court. She handed one to the prince with a wink. Flirted with his younger brother. Giggled with the maids.
And then she reached Kael.
And shoved it into his mouth.
Like he was some dog.
“C’mon, you’re always frowning. A little sugar might help, General Ice Cube~!”
The court laughed.
He didn’t react.
I didn’t either.
That was the first time I felt it—that uncomfortable squeeze in my chest. Something about the way Kael stood there, still as stone, just chewing. Not refusing. Not reacting. Like he couldn’t afford to.
And suddenly Charlotte didn’t seem that funny anymore.
She didn’t know who he really was. None of them did.
Not yet.
Because Kael wasn’t just some cold-blooded war machine. He had bled for their kingdom. Protected its borders. Carried the crown’s burdens on his back while the nobles squabbled over balls and inheritances.
But no one saw him.
No one ever asked why he never removed his armor.
Or why he never bathed in public.
Or why he never spoke unless spoken to.
He was the loyal shadow in every scene—and still treated like a villain.
And then, slowly… chapter by chapter… the truth bled through.
Kael wasn’t just misunderstood.
He was hiding.
Forced to live as a man since youth. Introduced to the world as a son, not a daughter. Disguised for survival in a court that would never follow a woman into war. With every breath he took, Kael risked exposure.
And even when the world mocked him, called him cold, cruel, inhuman—
He still stood tall.
Still fought.
Still protected.
I remember pausing in the middle of one chapter, my chest tight, the weight of it all hitting me like a freight train.
Kael was beautiful Even in the book, they whispered about Kael.
“The general’s too elegant to be a man,” some courtiers murmured when they thought no one was listening.
“He moves like a waltz — too poised for the battlefield.”
They were right — but none of them dared say more.
Because what they mistook for eerie grace was simply a truth they couldn’t comprehend.
Kael's beauty wasn’t loud or decorative like the noble ladies, powdered and perfumed to the gods. No, his beauty was quiet — natural. The kind that couldn’t be painted on. It was in the tilt of his almond-shaped eyes, lashes dark and long against skin too smooth for a hardened warrior. In the delicate slope of his neck beneath the collar of cold steel. In the slight curve of his hips, easily overlooked beneath layers of reinforced leather and armor.
His features were softer than a man’s should’ve been — a mouth shaped like it was meant to smile, though it rarely did. High cheekbones, a straight nose, and the kind of jawline that seemed carved from marble — but never cruel. The only harshness he carried was in the way the world treated him.
But none of them ever questioned it.
Because Kael wore his armor like a second skin, forged to mask the truth he could never speak. He bound his chest flat beneath his tunic. He let his voice drop into a low, clipped tone that gave nothing away. He trained harder than anyone — not to become stronger than men, but to be mistaken for one.
And yet... when he stood beside the other knights, even with his body hidden in iron and shadow, you could see it. The difference.
Where others were coarse and sharp, Kael moved like silk sliding over steel. Where others barked orders, he gave them with quiet command. His hands — when not wrapped around a sword — looked too refined for war. Pale. Long-fingered. Hands that once, readers guessed, had been trained to embroider, to play the harp, to hold a teacup delicately before fate stripped it all away.
But no one saw that.
They saw a silent general.
They saw a cold mask.
They never saw the girl beneath.
Even the nobles whispered about it.
“The general’s beauty is wasted under all that iron,” someone said.
“Too fair for a man. Too distant to be real.”
But they never looked closer.
Never saw her.
And neither did Charlotte.
Because the moment Kael tried to speak, tried to warn the prince of a coming betrayal, she accused him of manipulating the royal family. She slapped him in front of the court. Called him jealous. Said he was obsessed with power.
Even though it was Kael’s strategy that won the northern campaign. Even though it was Kael who stood guard through the prince’s fever, never sleeping. Even though it was Kael who—
Who was never allowed to break.
And when Kael finally did c***k—when he was declared a traitor after someone framed him—Charlotte didn’t hesitate.
“ive always felt something was off about him,” she said.
She didn’t even defend him.
She cheered when they dragged him to the dungeon.
That’s where I stopped reading.
I couldn’t go on.
Not until much later, when I saw fan theories and alternate POV snippets online—hidden blogs and translated notes from the original author that revealed the rest of the truth.
Kael Varentine never betrayed the kingdom.
He was betrayed by it.
And when he smiled in that final scene—when he stood alone, sword in hand, facing death with grace—
He wasn’t the villain.He was important for the plot-
He was just a side character
The only one who never got a happy ending.
And now… I was him. i dont remember what was the next part my mind dont recall it...
- Writer
